


You don't know

by Myalpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: I regret nothing and everything, M/M, Yet another crossover why, tumblr drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myalpha/pseuds/Myalpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I wrote a thing after reading this post.</p><p>jaclcfrost: "forget coffee shop AUs there need to be more random diner in the middle of nowhere at one in the morning AUs"</p>
            </blockquote>





	You don't know

**Author's Note:**

> Just random trivia - the title was taken from the title of the weather segment of the WTNV episode featured in this work.

When Stiles walks into the diner, its one in the morning on a tuesday.

He’d been driving all day and most of the night, on his way back home from a job in Tucson, Arizona, when he saw the glowing fluorescent light of the diner’s sign illuminating the darkness, on a side road just off Interstate 10 in the Mojave desert. “Moonlight All-Nite Diner” it announced itself as, in large mint-green neon lights.

Drawn to it like a moth to a flame, Stiles pulled his Jeep off of the Interstate and side road a few hundred yards.

He wondered if they sold curly fries. He hadn’t eaten all day, save a chocolate bar he’d found in the glove compartment earlier that afternoon. Strangely, the thought of food hadn’t even crossed his mind until now.

He pulled his Jeep to a stop right near the entrance to the diner, the car park illuminated in mint green by the buzzing neon sign.

From the entrance, in a booth close to the door, Stiles can see a person talking to a Native American-looking man dressed in an absurd caricature of an Indian chief. Shrugging, he steps inside. Its not like he expected to find normal people at a diner at one-am.

He walks in and sits down at the bar, helping himself to a menu from the nearby stack.

Nobody comes to greet him.

“Hello,” he calls out after a few minutes.

He hears a clattering in the kitchen, and a male voice call out “just a minute”. Stiles paused. The voice seemed familiar but he was having more trouble than he thought he should placing it.

He’s looking down when the server finally approaches him to take his order.

“What can I get you?” The man asks. Stiles orders a bowl of curly fries and a chocolate milkshake before glancing up, at which point he promptly falls of his stool.

“Gah!” he exclaims from the floor, “Derek?!”

“Stiles?!”

The two customers seated in the booth by the door are now looking at them curiously, as if they were the odd ones and it was perfectly normal to be dressed as a racist approximation of an Indian chief.

Stiles hauls himself back upright once more, and perches himself back upon the stool.

Derek gives him an appraising look. “You’ve really grown up,” he says eventually, breaking the silence.

“Well one would hope so,” Stiles retorts. “It’s been four years man”.

“I know.” says Derek, a tinge of regret in his voice, “I’m sorry”.

“No, I get it,” Stiles reassures him, “You needed to get away from all the painful memories. Beacon Hills wasn’t a good place for you. But seriously, you could have called or something”.

“I know,” repeats Derek guiltily.

Derek makes his way around to the other side of the counter and plops himself down on the stool next to Stiles’.

“But why the Mojave Desert?” Stiles asks him.

Derek shrugged. “I was just passing through one time, and I found I couldn’t leave.”

Stiles is at a loss for a moment. “You… couldn’t leave? What like, figuratively or literally?”

“Maybe both?” Derek admits unsurely, looking everywhere but Stiles’ eyes. He’s silent for a minute, before eventually asking, “but why are you here?”

“I had a job, in Tucson. I was just passing through on my way home,” Stiles explains. “I’m a hunter, I suppose. Of sorts.” At Derek’s stony glare he attempts to explain better. “No, no. Not like, an Argent style hunter. More like… a supernatural consultant. Something weird happens, and people call me to try and sort it out.”

Theres a long silence after that.

“I missed you, you know.” Stiles tells him, moving his hand to rest on the other man’s knee. A statement, not a question.

“I know.” Derek says simply, this time with a hint of fondness.

“You knew?” Stiles asks, incredulous, “and you left anyway?”

Derek sighed. “You were too young,” he explains. “You needed time to find yourself”.

“Well, I’m not too young now” Stiles says, staring intently at Derek’s lips and running his tongue across his own.

“No, you aren’t,” Derek agrees. He leans back, taking in Stiles’ easy confidence, his lean but muscled physique, his youthful attractiveness.

“Did you miss me?” Stiles asks, leaning closer to Derek, their faces only inches apart, Stiles’ breath puffing across Derek’s cheeks.

Derek doesn’t answer. But he does shift closer, eliminating those remaining few inches and sealing their lips together.

Stiles figures that’s answer enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and critique appreciated. Also follow me at [becauseyouaremyalpha](http://www.becauseyouaremyalpha.tumblr.com) on Tumblr for way more fun.


End file.
